


Sacrifice

by susannah_wilde



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bedtime Stories, Children, Family, Fluff, HP: EWE, Implied Mpreg, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-03
Updated: 2013-04-03
Packaged: 2017-12-07 09:19:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/746866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/susannah_wilde/pseuds/susannah_wilde
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Tell me a story." </p>
<p>"What would you like to hear?" </p>
<p>"Tell me how you fell in love with Daddy."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sacrifice

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ashindk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashindk/gifts).



“Tell me a story.”

“What would you like to hear?”

“Tell me how you fell in love with Daddy.” 

Harry glanced down at his daughter with a bemused smile on his face. “Again? You know it so well.”

“Only because it’s the best. Please?” Cynthia’s grey eyes looked up at him from beneath a tangle of wild black curls.

“All right.” Harry sat down on the edge of the bed after tucking the covers tightly around his daughter, making sure that all her stuffed animals were nearby.

“Once upon a time, thirty years ago in fact, there was a boy named Harry Potter who lived in a cupboard under the stairs. He didn’t have a happy childhood because he was always doing chores for his aunt and uncle who took care of him when his parents died.”

“Like Cinderella? You did the chores: the laundry, the gardening, the cooking. What happened? You don’t do any of those chores anymore.”

“Who told you about Cinderella?”

“Aunt Hermione. She let me borrow a book once.”

“Oh, did she? Then don’t tell her we have a house elf or she’ll never forgive me,” Cynthia grinned. She knew Aunt Hermione’s stance on house elves, but Daddy insisted that he couldn’t function without one.

“The first eleven years of his life were pretty much the same. Until one night a letter arrived for him via owl.”

“Your Hogwarts letter!” Cynthia cried out.

Harry smoothed the hair away from her face. “Yes, but I didn’t know that. All I saw was my Uncle Vernon trying to get rid of the letters. Everywhere we went, there were more letters. Even Dudley became scared.”

“Uncle Dudley, scared? But he’s a professional boxer. He can beat up anyone. He showed me all his medals last month.”

Harry grinned at his daughter’s comment. “But back then Dudley only knew how to beat me up.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. So one night we slept in a shack in the middle of the sea. It was a dark and stormy night—“

“Such a cliché,” Cynthia interrupted.

“Can’t argue with what’s true,” Harry reminded her. “At the stroke of midnight, a huge pounding took off the door to the shack. I looked up from where I lay and there stood a giant with my letter in one hand and a pink umbrella in the other.”

“Weren’t you frightened?” Cynthia asked, eyes wide as she hugged her purple unicorn closer.

“I was more curious. Here was someone who wanted to talk to me, Harry, a person who didn’t have a thing in the world to call his own. Then the giant told me the strangest thing: I was a wizard and had magic inside of me.”

“I can’t wait until I can do magic.” She grinned at him, hopeful. Harry picked up his wand and a few sparks flew out, tiny fireworks that lit up the room. They watched the array of colors until they fizzled out in the darkness.

“Yes, the Wizarding World was exquisite. I learned so much about myself and my magic and I loved it at Hogwarts. It was the first place I called home. I met and became friends with Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione. I took Charms, Transfiguration, and many other classes. I rode my first broom, learned how to play Quidditch, and became the youngest Seeker in a century. I was the best Gryffindor there. In which house do you want to be  
sorted?”

“Oh, no. You can’t drag me into this! I’d rather be in Hufflepuff just to spite the both of you.” She crossed her arms and glanced up at Harry with the smirk that reminded him of a certain Slytherin.

Harry laughed. “Don’t worry. If you’re even a bit as smart as your Daddy, you’ll definitely be sorted into Ravenclaw. Lucky you.”

“I know. Daddy also told me that that’s the reason why he’s the Minister while you’re just a lowly bodyguard. You have more brawn than brains.”

“I’m not a bodyguard. I’m an Auror who got stuck protecting him because no one else would put up with him.” Cynthia smirked at his comment.

Harry looked down at his daughter for a moment before leaning down and tickling her in surprise.

She shrieked and squirmed, trying to evade Harry’s fingers, while tossing the covers onto the floor. “What other lies has Daddy been telling you?” Harry asked, grinning at his daughter. When she began to answer, he tried to keep a straight face for as long as possible.

“That when you first met, he was the most beautiful person you had ever seen. You couldn’t resist his white-blond hair, tall, athletic body, and graceful features, and that the only reason you didn’t become his friend was that you were jealous of him.” When he heard that, Harry lost it.

“Funny how I seem to recall a scrawny git with a pointed face and a stuck-up air about him.”

“Dad!” Cynthia’s eyes are huge and her mouth is a perfect “o.”

“First of all, we were eleven when we met, just boys at that age. I admit that he had an air of entitlement, coming from a pure-blood family, but he was still a spoiled and rude child.”

“So the only alternative was to become enemies? Also, Dad, you didn’t negate any of Daddy’s beauty so that part is at least true.” She smiled brightly as Harry blushed.

“That’s neither here nor there. A lot of things happened my first few years at Hogwarts to ensure our rivalry. We fought a lot, hexing each other over the most trivial things that even I can’t remember now, especially about Quidditch and Potions. I swear, both the teacher and your daddy hated me in that class.”

“Maybe it was just because Daddy was better at Potions than you.”

“It’s true he was better in class than me. But even he couldn’t beat your Aunt Hermione. She’s the smartest witch in our generation and that bothers him a bit, but don’t tell him I said that.”

“Okay, Dad.” Cynthia reached down to clasp his hand in hers.

“Now, the one thing I would definitely beat him at is Quidditch. Don’t tell me he told you that I cheated.” Cynthia closed her mouth and looked up at Harry guiltily when he finished speaking.

Harry sighed. “No, I didn’t cheat. We were actually well matched in skill. However, I always had a knack for grabbing the Snitch first. In fact, the first time I ever lost a match was against Hufflepuff and that was because of the Dementors. I would say he cheated when he dressed up as a Dementor in my third year.”

Cynthia shuddered and leaned in closer to Harry, grabbing his arm. Harry looked down at his daughter, but before he can ask what’s wrong, she says, “He was just getting his revenge for the Hippogriff attacking him.”

Harry raised his eyebrows. “Oh, so he finally owned up to that? I was wondering if he was ever going to mention the attack.”

“You’re silly, Dad. You two fight so much, yet you love each other just as fiercely. It’s a wonder you didn’t kill each other in school.”

“No, your Daddy was just a bully. Pure evil is something else entirely, that destroys a person from the inside until it festers everything else around you.”

“Voldemort,” Cynthia whispered in his ear and Harry is proud that she used his name this time.

“Yes. A megalomaniac hell-bent on living forever and trying to rule a society that by his definition he did not belong to.” Harry reached over and tugged Cynthia onto his lap, wrapping his arms around her.

“But you defeated him.”

“Not by myself and I had a lot of luck. I lost a lot of people in the war. Even when I was a baby I was thrust into a position with no choice in the matter. If I wanted to survive I had follow orders until I could find a different way to kill Voldemort and be free.”

“Just like Daddy.”

“Yes, except he backed the wrong side. His father was a supporter of Voldemort during the first Wizarding War. When Voldemort rose again your Daddy had to join based on family honor. His father is the only reason that Daddy has the Mark on his arm.” Harry gritted his teeth, anger bubbling throughout his body. If Lucius were alive, Harry would have gladly killed him for all the horror he put Draco through.

“Why?”

“To a pure blood family, like the Malfoys, family name and honor is placed above all else. Draco’s duty to his family was to support Voldemort so that they would have the highest place in the new society. Did you know that that man threatened to kill your grandmother if he didn’t take the Mark?”

Cynthia gasped, her eyes widening at the new information.

“Yes, that scum would kill his own wife to achieve his Lord’s goals. Did you know that Daddy didn’t want to become a Death Eater?”

Harry looked outside the window at the sun setting.

“He didn’t. After all, in sixth year, he was under orders to obey Voldemort under the threat of death. But then there were clues, that had I paid attention, I would have figured it out sooner and helped him and Grandmother Narcissa escape.”

“He didn’t kill Professor Dumbledore.”

“No, he couldn’t and if Snape hadn’t come at that time, I firmly believe that Draco would have accepted the offer of safety.”

During the silence that followed, Harry thought about all Draco had gone through, whispered conversations during late nights, waking up from the constant nightmares that no amount of comfort could take away the fear they brought, and the shadows that sometimes crept into their lives at unexpected moments.

“Dad.” Cynthia tugged at Harry’s arm.

“Yes?”

“When did you realize that Daddy wasn’t a bad person?”

“During the final battle at Hogwarts, the Order was trying to finish this once and for all. Every horcrux, except for Voldemort, had been destroyed. So many people had been killed and we were just too tired to let the war continue. Bodies were falling all over the battlefield, their loyalties indistinguishable in the night. Then I heard a scream coming from where a group of Death Eaters lay injured, and when I crept over I saw Narcissa was lying dead on the ground.

“Voldemort had killed her in a fit of rage when he discovered that she had lied to him about me being dead in the Forbidden Forest. In that moment, Voldemort used her distraction and aimed a hex at me. Draco was the one who first saw the attack and placed a shield on me. However, because he was using his mother’s wand, it didn’t produce a shield large enough to protect both of us. Instead he took the effects of the Cruciatus Curse.

“As the new owner of his wand, it obeyed me, but I think that any wand would have worked in its place; I was that angry and willing to kill just to finish the war.

“Why didn’t Daddy die in that moment?”

“I didn’t find that out until later. I killed Voldemort, picked up Draco, and took him to St. Mungo’s.”

Harry’s eyes watered when he remembered seeing Draco writhing on the ground, limbs thrashing, wild screams piercing the night, and the repeated requests for the mercy of death. At St. Mungo’s, Harry paced in front of the room with Ron and Hermione. Out of all the thoughts scrambling in his mind, the most important was wanting to know why.

Why would his former enemy give his life? When Harry was finally allowed in the room, he gasped at the sight in front of him.

Draco lay on the bed, the very image of death. Pale, unmoving with bruises, lacerations mapped on his body, and bits of flesh ripped out, all scars left from battle. And this was after being cleaned and healed. The only way Harry could tell Draco was alive was by the magical spells that monitored his vital signs.

Harry sat down and thought _that was supposed to be me._

“He was Sleeping Beauty,” Cynthia said and Harry smiled at the reference.

“Yes, and that is one of the reasons why I kissed him. I wanted him to know that his efforts had not been in vain, that even if he couldn’t hear me, his sacrifice was a blessing.” Harry sat back into his memory.

_Harry knew that Draco’s chances at surviving were slim but he would do anything to save him. He sealed his promise with a kiss._

_Draco’s lips, when Harry first kissed him, were limp and cold, a chaste kiss if it could even be called that. Harry had been about to pull back when he felt Draco push up against his lips, gently forcing his tongue to deepen the kiss._

_“Harry,” Draco said when they broke apart for air and Harry opened his eyes in surprise. Grey eyes met his, a worried look on them until Harry smiled at him._

_Hermione, ever the inquisitive witch, had read several books before she explained to Harry that Voldemort had been transforming Draco into a horcurx and because of this he couldn’t die. As an uncompleted Horcrux, Draco should have died when Voldemort did, if it were not for the ancient magic of love. Draco had been willing to sacrifice his life for Harry who in the depths of his soul held some feelings for Draco. Narcissa had also sacrificed her life for Draco and thus there was no way he could have died._

_“It looks like all that fighting might have been misguided.” Hermione smiled at him before leaving the room._

_“What do I do now?”_

_“Well, if you want to save him, you know what to do.”_

_All Harry had to do was allow and will bits of his magic for Draco to live, and it had taken the form of a kiss._

__

_Just like he had won Harry’s heart._

_Draco paused as he laid down the fork next to his plate. He and Harry had been having dinner at his flat after a long day at the cemetery._

_“I had nothing to live for anymore and you had everything. If I could do something right in my life, then that would be it. Besides, I love you.”_

_“What!” Harry felt his wine dribble down his mouth while trying to look at Draco, who had turned his head away._

_“Yes, by some weird twist of fate, I grew to admire you, knowing at the same time that you hated me. Don’t ask me to explain it, because I can’t. You know I was ready to renounce my allegiance to my father and family just so I could come over to your side. But as always, I was too fucking late.” An anguished cry went through the room. “I’m a failure in everything I do and now Mother is dead and I have nothing!”_

_After a year of not showing any emotions, the floodgates had opened. Draco sat facing away, but Harry could see his back shaking, head bowed, and arms wrapped tightly around his torso._

_“No, it’s not too late,” Harry said, placing his hands on Draco’s back and making soothing circles. Draco stiffened, but he didn’t move away._

_“I realize now that I should have taken your offer of friendship that day. I have made many mistakes since then, but the one thing I don’t regret is kissing you, even as unexpected as it was.”_

_Draco’s breath hitched as Harry turned him around, looking at him with hopeful eyes. Harry brushed away Draco’s tears before leaning forward and kissing Draco over and over again until they were both breathless._

“And so you fell in love, got married, had me, and lived happily ever after.” Cynthia sighed, a faraway look in her eyes.

Harry chuckled and, despite the stern look given to him, said, “A little something like that. I have you, and your Daddy, and the love is still there after all these years. What more would I want?” He looked down and saw Cynthia struggling to keep her eyes open. He stood up, taking the blankets from the floor and wrapped them around her small body. Finally, he leaned in to kiss her on the forehead.

“Dad,” she whispered, yawning.

“Yes,” Harry said, putting the purple unicorn on her chest.

“I love you and Daddy, but a brother or sister would be nice.”

“Really?” Harry said, surprised.

“Yeah, someone I could boss around,” she murmured in her sleep.

Harry turned off the light and closed the door. He was still thinking about her comments as he got ready for bed, brushing his teeth and slipping into pyjamas.

Draco was already in bed, but he was reading some documents. His brow furrowed, deep in concentration. He looked over as Harry climbed into bed, letting his chest lean against Draco’s arm.

“Is Cynthia asleep?” Draco asked, dipping a quill in some ink as he signed his name.

“Yeah, she just wanted a bedtime story.”

“Oh, what did you tell her this time? How the great Harry Potter, Seeker extraordinaire, lost the Quidditch match?”

“’Seeker extraordinaire’,” Harry smiled as he reached over and wiped a smudge of ink off Draco’s nose. “No, I was just telling her why I loved you, although there aren’t any reasons that would state otherwise.”

“Why wouldn’t you? I’m perfect.”

“Yes, perfect for me.” Harry whispered into Draco’s ear, and then kissed the hollow of Draco’s throat, making his way down to the collarbone and to his chest. Draco tried to finish reading but soon he set aside the papers and lay back down so that Harry could continue to press open-mouth kisses on his skin.

The buttons popped off the pyjama top, but Harry only opened it wide enough to allow the shirt to spread open across Draco’s upper chest.

There lay the proof that Draco loved him. Right across his heart the skin, where another horcrux was meant to have formed, was instead a symbol of love. Ugly raised scars and red bruises with purple discoloration that no amount of magic had been able to fix. Harry leaned down and pressed his lips to the piece of skin, letting his kisses show how much he loved Draco.

While Harry wore his scar so that the entire Wizarding World could see and know his sacrifice, Draco wore his hidden, only open for Harry to know what he, Draco, had been willing to offer in exchange for Harry’s life. And nothing could even come close to the love they shared.

Draco began moving across the bed, the soft moans escaping his lips as Harry felt the heart underneath his kisses speed up. He began ghosting his fingers so that Draco had to arch up if he wanted to feel Harry’s touch. Harry moved his kissed farther up, avoiding Draco’s attempts to kiss him, then turned to whisper in his ear.

“I want another child, our child, growing inside of me, to demonstrate our love,” Harry said, tousling Draco’s hair.

“Yes . . .” Draco groaned, trying to tear his shirt off to reach more skin.

“I want one tonight,” Harry said slowly. “I want the world to know that the Minister can make good in his promise of family unity. . .”

“Whatever you want, Harry, just please . . .” Draco trailed off as Harry started pressing down and unzipping his trousers.

“No, whatever the Minister wants,” Harry said, but Draco cut him off with another demanding kiss and the night was theirs.


End file.
